A Very Different Potion
by KT Welsh
Summary: Severus doesn't understand what's going wrong; he's never had this kind of trouble with a potion before. A fluffy SSHG one-shot fic.


**Title:** A Very Different Potion

**Author:** KT Welsh

**Pairing:** Severus Snape/Hermione Granger

**Rating: **K+ for a couple of mild references to sex.

**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe and all its residents belong to J.K.Rowling.

**Author's Note:** This is the result of a rather random and exceptionally fluffy plot bunny that wouldn't stop plaguing me until I wrote the story. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

_**A Very Different Potion  
**_

Severus Snape, Hogwarts Professor and Head of Slytherin House, was annoyed. And while he was no stranger to that particular emotion, the reason for his ire was most unusual indeed.

"For Merlin's sake," he muttered to himself, dropping the glass cauldron he was holding back onto the table in disgust. It tipped onto one side, spilling its contents everywhere, but he made no effort to right it. "You're a Potions Master, Severus. You've successfully brewed the most complicated potions in the wizarding world and created no less than ten potions of your own. How can you fail so abysmally when it comes to putting together such simple items as these?"

And yet there was no doubt that he had failed; although he had never mixed these particular ingredients together before, he was painfully certain that the resulting concoction should not be the sticky grey mess currently dripping onto the floor of his dungeon laboratory.

With a sigh, he waved his wand towards the rotten fruit of his hour's labour and both the oozing liquid and cracked cauldron vanished. He checked the open book in front of him to reassure himself that he had not made a careless error, but no-one could have said that Severus had not followed the instructions to the letter. His quantities were precise, his ingredients fresh; what could possibly have gone wrong?

"This is just not good enough," he grumbled under his breath. He strode across to the door of his dungeon classroom, threw it open and collared a fourth year Ravenclaw whom had the unfortunate luck to be passing at that very moment. "You there!"

He was immensely satisfied by the look of terror which immediately crossed the youth's face. Yes, he still had it; this...lapse in his ability was clearly only a minor setback.

"Professor Snape?" the boy squeaked, and the books he was clutching began to tremble as his fear found an outlet in shaking hands.

"Fetch Potter! I need to see him now!" he growled, before spinning on his heel and storming back inside.

The frightened teenager immediately ran towards Gryffindor Tower to alert Harry Potter to both Snape's demand and his dark mood. He didn't know what had put the Potions Professor in such a foul temper, but he didn't fancy hanging around to find out what would happen if his order wasn't obeyed immediately.

* * *

Hermione Granger, former Hogwarts Head Girl and current Unspeakable, stepped out of the fireplace after an irritatingly long day at work. She hated travelling by Floo, but the thought of Apparating to Hogsmeade and then walking back to the castle on what was an unnaturally cold September evening had appealed even less and so she had reluctantly made the trip. 

Dusting ash off her robes as she went, she wandered through the living quarters that she shared with her husband of six months in search of him. She had thought that he would need to move out of his rooms in the castle when they married, but Albus Dumbledore had insisted that it was unnecessary and so Hermione had taken up residence at her old school following her return from honeymoon.

She had to admit that returning to Hogwarts had pleased her. During the years she'd spent training in London, Hermione had desperately missed the place where she had first learned how to harness her magical ability. Coming back had been like coming home, and the fact that she was doing so to be with the man she loved had been the icing on the cake.

"Severus?" she called softly. Normally he would be working in his study at this time, marking homework or finalising lesson plans, but that room was dark and cold. She quickly checked the empty bedroom, calling his name again as she went.

"I'm in the living room," he responded at last.

She turned and made her way there quickly, anxious to see him and hold him. It had been an even longer day than usual and now she wished she had taken the day off and stayed in bed with him all day as he had suggested. It was her birthday after all; someone else could have taken his classes.

Moving through the doorway into the living room, Hermione gasped at the candlelit sight ahead of her. Their small dining table had been set for an intimate meal for two, a chilled bottle of champagne standing next to a vase of her favourite white roses. Soft music played in the background and she recognised it as the piece which had been playing while the formalities of their marriage were being concluded.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," Severus said quietly, passing her a filled champagne flute before softly clinking his glass against hers. "And here's to many more to come."

* * *

Severus Snape, reformed Death Eater and surprisingly loving husband, was feeling really rather pleased with himself. 

His lovely young wife was obviously very touched by the lengths he'd gone so that she might have a birthday to remember, and he'd already been rewarded with two deep and lingering kisses. He hoped that she would be more than willing to continue showing her appreciation later when they retired to the bedroom; he'd had the House Elves change the green silk sheets especially.

"Oh, Severus, thank you for this," Hermione breathed, looking around in wonder as she took a sip of the bubbly liquid he'd poured on hearing her call his name. "I can't believe you've done it all for me." She gasped again as she noticed what else was sitting on the table. "Is that chocolate cake?" Oh yes, he knew all of her weaknesses. It was part of why he had made such an effective spy.

"It is," he informed her, before adding proudly, "and I made it myself."

He wasn't going to admit that he'd been forced to ask Potter for help. He still refused to refer to the Defence against the Dark Arts Professor by anything other than his surname, despite Hermione's pleas that he make an effort to get on with her best friends. There were some things he would just never do, not even for the bushy-haired Gryffindor whom he cared for with a passion that he had never dreamed possible.

At least Harry had never given Severus cause to hex him. Unlike the other member of the infamous Golden Trio. Ron's hair had been purple for a week after his last meeting with Severus, and after Weasley had retaliated Severus had been unable to sit down properly (or even more annoyingly, make love to Hermione) for two.

"Well, it looks wonderful," Hermione replied. "I can't wait to have a piece after dinner."

Actually, they could both clearly see that the cake looked rather lopsided; one side had risen more than the other and the slightly too-runny chocolate topping was already beginning to drip onto thesnowy white tablecloth. Severus had also tried to decorate the cake with a suitably cheerful greeting but had run out of both space and blood-red icing before he was finished, and hence the cake bore the legend _Happy Birth H_. Still, it was the thought which counted, wasn't it?

Hermione smiled up at her husband as she wound her free arm around his waist. "I didn't know you could bake, darling. I take it you didn't have any trouble?"

"Trouble? Of course not, it was little different from making a potion," Severus scoffed. "All such endeavours follow the same basic recipe; it is merely the ingredients which change. It was, as the Muggles say, quite literally a piece of cake," he assured her with a small smile.

Then, plucking the glass from between her fingers and setting it down carefully on the table next to his, he swooped in to silence any further questions with a kiss. Hopefully the House Elves would clear away his seven earlier attempts before his know-it-all wife got wind of them, or he'd never hear the end of it.


End file.
